


In and Out and No Mess

by Moncube



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sex Training, for CIA reasons, sex under supervision
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-01 14:46:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5209862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moncube/pseuds/Moncube
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a kinkmeme prompt: "I would like to see a fic where [Illya and Napoleon] are in a room with a two-way mirror and have to (have) sex while being monitored."<br/>In this fic, because of some CIA rule, Napoleon and his new partner have to undergo honeypot training. Illya is not pleased, and Napoleon tries to calm Illya down.</p><p>Many many thanks to seasyndo on tumblr for being there for me to ramble at about this story! Without her I would not have gotten this far!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Unpleasant Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the whole prompt from the kinkmeme: 
> 
> I don't really care what the reasons are, but I would like to see a fic where they are in a room with a two-way mirror and have to sex while being monitored. Napoleon is more accustomed to seducing targets and separating sex from emotional attachment than Illya, but neither of them are particularly thrilled about the situation they are in. Illya is particularly agitated, his frustration only thinly held in check by his sense of duty (i.e. he could snap at any moment). Napoleon, sensing what is boiling below the surface tries taking things slow and distracting Illya from the fact that they are being monitored. But distracting Illya isn't easier and it soon becomes apparent that channeling Illya's anger into passion might be a better tactic. 
> 
> I wasn't sure if I should write a Gaby/Illya relationship into this fic, but in the end I left it out because it would be too complicated.

It began when Napoleon was first brought into the CIA. He had to undergo rigorous training to be a spy, and he learned how to assume a fake identity, to handle a gun and other spy gear, and he also had to learn how to seduce and bed a mark, regardless of their gender.  
  
Back then they had him practice on fellow agents. Women were straightforward, and to Napoleon, not that different from the encounters that he would have with a friendly stranger at the bar (if you ignore the fact that they were being watched through a two way mirror), but his sessions with men were more... complicated.  
  
The CIA had strict requirements of its agents, and it was a given that such perversions of being sexually attracted to men could immediately cause an agent to be stripped of their title. So on one hand, Napoleon had to have intercourse with his fellow male colleagues for "training purposes", but unlike his sessions with women, he had to do so in such a way that the CIA would not think that he was a homosexual pervert.  
  
When he was loaned out to U.N.C.L.E., he surely didn't expect a repeat of that experience, but apparently, Sanders had strict requirements for agents even if they were loaned out, and these requirements even extended to their partners, even if they had nothing to do with the CIA.

* * *

  
  
Waverly greeted Napoleon and Illya with an apologetic look as they stepped into this office, back at U.N.C.L.E. headquarters.  
"Ah, I'm terribly sorry about asking to meet the both of you on such short notice, but apparently Solo, your handler back at the CIA has been requesting, that you go through another round of training, this time with your new partner - Illya."  
  
At the mention of his name, Illya's eyes widened. "What has CIA training got to do with me?"  
  
"Anyone paired up with Napoleon has to go through this with him, I'm afraid. The agents from CIA were very insistent on it.  
And Solo, I know that you don't like having to go through this, and believe me when I say that I wish you didn't have to do this. "  
  
If it were just himself, Napoleon would have shouldered the task without complaint. This was something that he got used to. He knew the ins and outs of the procedure and he knew what he had to do to appear acceptable to the CIA people that was supervising him throughout the task.  
  
But this was different, he had to do this with Illya, who had still not caught on as to what type of "training" would have to take place.  
  
And of course that's when Illya spoke up.  
  
"What kind of American training is this? Surely it can't be harder than KGB."  
  
Waverly frowned, pausing to consider the men already waiting in the next room, who are probably growing more impatient by the minute, and decides that it would be unwise to inform the Russian about the exact nature of the task itself.  
  
"Actually, since the gentlemen from the CIA are already waiting for the two of you, why don't you go in and ask them? Again, apologies that you have to do this at all, but I'll be doing my best to reduce the number of sessions that the CIA has demanded of you two."  


* * *

 

Sure enough, two men in suits were already waiting for them in the other room.  
One of them stood up to shake Napoleon's hand..  
  
"You must be Solo. I'm Robert, I believe we've not met before. Of course, Sanders won't be here to oversee you, as this is meant to be a standard training and as of now there are a lot of other things that require his attention. This is my partner, Scott."  
  
"You have already been through this training once, Solo. So it's nothing that you've not seen before. We felt that we needed to conduct this exercise to ensure that your partner also has the requisite skillsets in seduction missions, in case there are targets who have different sorts of tastes."  
  
"In fact, maybe you could show your Russian friend a few tricks about how it is supposed to go, since you seem to have gotten quite a lot of experience in the field."  
  
As they continue talking to Solo, two things become increasingly clear to Illya: One, that they treat Solo with as much respect that Sanders does, that is not say, not very much. Underneath their words in their briefing are jabs at Solo's sexual habits during missions, and they could not care less about the stellar results that he and Illya produced as a team at U.N.C.L.E. Two, by extension they show Illya just as little respect, talking about him as if he weren't even in the room.  
  
Then one of them makes a joke about 'sleeping with the enemy', and that's what breaks Solo out of his calm and cool facade.  
  
"Now Robert, explain this to me again. The whole reason we are here is because I have been assigned a new partner and you want to ensure that his skillset is up to par, but then you talk about him as if he is still the enemy. So which one is it? I suggest that you either treat my partner with the amount of respect that he deserves, or there shall be no need for this exercise."  
  
That gets them to shut up for a moment, sputtering in indignation.  
  
"Excuse me for a moment, we won't be long."  
  
Solo promptly leads Illya out the door to conduct a quick briefing of his own.  
  
"Cowboy, am I hearing this right? They want to watch us -- fuck?"  
  
Napoleon had to suppress a roll of his eyes, as if Illya just said that the sky was blue that day.  
  
"Yes, Peril. And they take a lot of perverse pleasure in doing so. Seems like schadenfreude isn't just for the Nazis."  
  
Peril snorts.  
  
"This is inefficient. A waste of time."  
  
"You could say that again."  
  
"I have gone through similar training with KGB before. But only with women."  
  
"And what if your mark was a man?"  
"That's what the women are for. If the target still shows no sign of interest then he's probably a пидора́с."  
  
"Come again?"  
  
"A homosexual. Then we have good reason to blackmail him. Is more efficient than seduction."  
  
 Napoleon concedes the point, and it's not like he was particularly in agreement with the CIA's way of doing things anyway.  
  
"This is no hardship to me, Cowboy. Even though KGB training was only with women, I did not say that it was easy. This will be like walk in park."  
  
"Alright then." Napoleon says dubiously, surprised at Illya's sudden co-operativeness, and together they go back into the room to receive their instructions for the first "exercise".

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to the internet, пидора́с [pʲɪdɐˈras] is an “extremely offensive term for homosexual”.


	2. First Time's the Hardest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They jump right into the exercise. Illya does not take things well. Napoleon tries to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really suck at coming up with chapter titles.

  
There’s not much to say after that, and from their short time in the briefing room, they could tell that they were going to be watched through a two way glass. So when they were ushered into the other room, it was obvious that the large mirror on one side of the room was fake.  
  
There was also a tiny mattress on the floor, barely long enough for Napoleon to sleep on, never mind Illya. It’s battered and threadbare, and yet somehow they’re supposed to use it to demonstrate their ability to conduct themselves in a seductive manner out in the field.  
  
Napoleon looks at Illya who looks back with a steely determination in his eyes.   
They stare at each other awkwardly before Scott's grating voice cuts in through the sound system.  
  
“Any day now, Solo and Kuryakin. The sooner you begin the sooner we can all get this over with.”  
  
Napoleon shrugs and starts taking off his clothes, and Illya follows suit, without a trace of self-consciousness. If it were just him and Illya in a different context, Napoleon would probably be fully hard by now, but right here and now, his worry for Illya and nervousness at having to ‘perform’ in front of the CIA agents again wins over his libido.   
  
Illya’s now fully nude, but even so he looks like a caged tiger poised to strike than a potential lover in the bedroom. Napoleon decides to take the lead for now, stepping up to Illya and putting a hand around his neck.   
  
“Kiss me,” he says, and tips his head up so that Illya can lean down to kiss him, and he does. At first it’s gentle and tentative, a closed mouth kiss, and Napoleon tries to lick his way into Illya’s mouth and deepen it. Illya pulls back, looking a bit startled, before remembering what they’re supposed to be doing, and leans back in for a deeper kiss this time.  
  
To Napoleon’s surprise, Illya’s a good kisser. His tongue intertwines with Napoleon’s in a way that makes his toes curl, and as Illya puts his arms around Napoleon’s waist, he is suddenly reminded of how rare it is that he has sex with someone taller than himself. He shudders as warmth starts to pool in his groin.  
  
Napoleon breaks the kiss and looks down. He then realizes that despite their kissing, Illya is nowhere near getting hard, which would mean that Napoleon is not doing his part right.   
  
He leads Illya over to the mattress and guides him to lie down on it. The mattress is so thin that it does not provide much cushioning, and Napoleon can still feel the hardness of the floor even as he gets on his knees.  
   
Illya is still watching him attentively, though thankfully not as guarded or poised to strike like he was a few moments ago. Napoleon considers his next move. Should he hold his partner and kiss, while using their hands to get each other off? Should he try to just frot against Illya? What would Illya be comfortable with trying?  
  
Recalling his experiences with other straight men (mostly other CIA agents who had to go through the training), Napoleon realizes that they were initially quite squeamish about touching another man’s penis. Any situation where a cock would go their their ass, cock or mouth would get them uncomfortable, but for some reason they seemed perfectly okay with handjobs. He’s not sure how Illya would react to it when the time comes, but for now he intends to avoid doing anything that would make Illya more uncomfortable than necessary.  
  
“Cowboy, what are you doing?” Illya snaps at him, and Napoleon realizes that he’s spent far too long contemplating his course of action.   
  
“Just thinking about how we should be going about this... exercise.” He guides Illya’s legs apart and sits in between them. When Illya looks up at him his eyes convey worry and confusion, and Napoleon smiles at him, and presses both his palms down at Illya’s hips.  
  
“Whatever you do, don’t thrust.” He says, and leans down to take Illya’s flaccid cock into his mouth.   
  
Illya gasps, totally caught off guard, and his hips jerk forward a little on instinct, nearly choking Napoleon. Napoleon pulls back, and once again pushes his own weight down at Illya’s hips. He knows that trying to pin Illya down is useless. He’s seen the raw power that Illya has, that allows him to throw an entire motorcycle or try to stop a car, and he’s counting on Illya’s willpower to not thrust up into his mouth and choke him again.   
  
This time, when he sucks and laps at Illya’s cock, Illya doesn’t thrust. He moans, and his thighs twitch from the effort of holding back. Napoleon has to admire his self-control, and it’s a win-win for the both of them: it makes Napoleon’s job easier, and Illya gets the best blowjob of his life.   
  
It isn’t long before Illya’s cock starts twitching and leaking precome, and as Illya’s breathing becomes more ragged and his hands start fisting in the mattress with greater urgency, Napoleon knows that Illya is getting close to coming. He pulls off, switching to his hand to jerk him off instead, and tells Peril to just come. Illya moans, and spills his load into Napoleon’s hand.   
  
Napoleon keeps his other hand on Illya’s thigh as he watches Illya’s ragged breathing return to normal. With his flushed cheeks and sweaty chest, Illya was really a sight to behold. When he finally returns to his senses Illya looks up at Napoleon. 

* * *

  
“Back with us, Peril?” Napoleon says with a smirk. His lips are redder than usual and for a moment Illya regrets not watching when Napoleon was sucking him off.  
  
His body tingles and he feels a warm pleasantness in his chest, and yet he feels disgusted at himself for feeling this way. He is not supposed to, and is not possible that he feels this way about Napoleon because Illya is straight, and the best of KGB will not waste their time fantasizing about such perverse acts.   
  
Napoleon pokes at his side, jolting him back into the present.   
  
"Peril, you have to kiss me again", he says, and Illya sits up to look at him.   
"Why? Is the exercise not over yet?"  
  
Napoleon sighs. "Both of us need to come," and then he drops his voice to a whisper. "and they want to see you use your mouth as well. So unless you're alright with sucking my cock I suggest you kiss me and use your hand to get me off."  
  
Illya barely has time to nod before he finds himself being straddled by Napoleon. Napoleon kisses him again. He tastes strange this time, and when Illya realizes that it's because Napoleon has been sucking on his own cock only moments before, he pulls back in disgust and tries to use his hand to scrub out the taste from his tongue.  
  
"Sorry," Napoleon says, wincing in sympathy. "I forgot about that."  
  
"I can't imagine how you could just... suck me like that."  
  
"Yeah, it's a little odd at first, but you get used to it."   
  
At that, Illya goes very still. The CIA must have somehow trained--no, twisted--all their agents to become perverted, and unnatural, and now Illya himself must suffer the same fate. He grimaces at the thought of going through the same treatment and turning into a пидора́с - a depraved homosexual.   
  
For a moment all Illya sees is red and he can hear Napoleon shouting at him, but just barely, as if Napoleon is shouting through many layers of concrete.   
  
When he comes to his senses again he realizes that the furniture in the room has been completely ruined or torn apart. The table has been upended and broken in half, and three of its legs are splintered and scattered across the room. What used to be a mattress was now just stuffing and bits of shredded cloth. There’s a few holes in the wall and even the cable could be seen through it, broken and crackling. The only thing that was not completely broken was the two way mirror, which had cracked badly but still held up like a reinforced windshield.   
  
Usually when his rage overcomes him he’s on a mission where he can take it out on the people who get in his way or in some posh hotel room that Waverly booked for them, but it’s the first time that his destruction happened right in U.N.C.L.E. headquarters, and it’s utterly unacceptable to be destroying his organization’s property.   
  
And he sees Napoleon, naked but thankfully whole and unscathed, watching him with a worried look in his eyes. He watches Napoleon reach out to touch him, but for some reason he withdraws away at the last minute, and seeing that hurts more than the ache in his hands.   
  
That’s when he hears the door open, and sees Waverly step into the room.   
  



	3. Adjourned For Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly steps in, the boys get a break, and Napoleon confesses something to Illya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of period typical homophobia

Illya’s knuckles are a bloodied mess, and there’s splinters sticking out of his hands. There is no way to carry on with this exercise, and even if the CIA agents insist, Napoleon has already made up his mind to call it off, and he knows that Waverly would have his back if it comes down to it.   
  
When the door opens, Napoleon braces himself for the worst, that it’s the CIA men coming to goad them on, or worse, declare the exercise a failure and renounce Napoleon’s loan to U.N.C.L.E. due to his defective partner.   
  
He heaves a sigh of relief when instead it is Waverly who steps through the door. His posture remains calm and controlled but his eyes blaze with anger.  Waverly takes in the state of his agents and the room, and Napoleon almost readies himself to defend Illya, but before he can say anything, Waverly cuts in.   
  
“Illya and Napoleon, put on your clothes. Napoleon, please escort Illya to Medical. They’ll get you cleaned up a bit.”  
  
“What about the exercise?” Napoleon asks, pointedly turning to look at the two way mirror.  
  
“I’ll see to it. For now you’re free to go.”  
  
After Napoleon puts on his clothes, he checks on Illya, who’s got his pants on, and is about to put on his turtleneck.   
  
“Don’t put it on, it’ll make your splinters worse.” Napoleon says, snatching it away from him.  
  
“It is nothing.”  
  
“I won’t let you aggravate your injuries, especially if there’s no need for it. Let’s go.”   
  
Napoleon then strides out of the room, letting Illya fall into step behind him as they head to the office of U.N.C.L.E.’s medical team.

* * *

  
  
Illya himself finds it a waste of time, that the nurses were attending to wounds that he could easily treat and bandage by himself. But he has to obey Waverly’s orders, so he let’s them do all the fussing. He sets his jaw and winces when they pull out the splinters, but he does not complain.   
  
Cowboy is still sitting nearby, watching him with concern in his eyes. He hasn’t said a word since they’ve left the exercise room, and Illya wonders what is going through his mind at this instant.   
  
It’s obvious that Cowboy is not going to be the one to break the silence, and so Illya waits until the nurses finish cleaning and bandaging his hands, and leave them alone in the room before he speaks up.  
  
“I don’t blame you, Cowboy.”  
  
At that, Napoleon cocks his head at him, seemingly clueless.   
  
“I don’t blame you. But can’t you see? They’ve brainwashed you. And now they’re using you to brainwash me too.”  
  
“What?! Peril - it’s not - They’re not trying to turn you gay. It’s part of their training. Everyone has to go through that. Even men who don’t like other men.”  
  
“That’s what they say - and you believe them?”  
  
“Well... I thought their methods were kind of ridiculous but... they didn’t turn me into a gay man.”  
  
“How do you know for sure?”  
  
“Because... I’ve always felt this way. With both men and women.”  
  
Illya was in no way expecting that, and he feels a lurch at the bottom of his stomach like he’s ready to throw up, disgust and fear and shock all coiling up together and making him sick.  
  
“Oh.” Napoleon says, “I understand if you would want to request a different partner, now that you know the truth about me.”   
  
To anyone else, Napoleon’s tone seems cold and indifferent, but working with him these past months made Illya more perceptive to his partner’s true emotions. He conceals his hurts with a charming smile, and his disappointment with feigned nonchalance.  
  
“I’d still want you as my partner, but I need some time alone to think this through.”   
  
Illya tries to still the trembling in his hands as he forces the words out. He keeps reminding himself that Napoleon Solo, the homosexual, is the same man that he’s worked with the past few months, the same man who had his back during missions, who helped him pull off the most dangerous of situations and escape almost unscathed. He remembers to steady his breathing, to focus on calming himself down.  
  
When he finally looks up, Napoleon is already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what exactly period-typical homophobia would be like, but I would guess that one of the things about be the lack of education about the different types of sexualities. Illya doesn't have a concept of bisexuality (yet), so he's still rather confused about everything.


	4. Meetings and More Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaby and Waverly weigh in on the situation.

There was a knock on the door of Napoleon’s room. He opens the door, expecting either Illya or Waverly, but he finds Gaby instead, looking sternly up at him with her hands on her hips.  
  
“Is there a problem, Gaby?”  
  
“Waverly told me what happened”, said Gaby, pushing past Napoleon into his room and sitting down on his couch.   
  
“Does Illya know that he told you?”   
  
“No, not yet. Care to explain to me what exactly happened in that room a few hours ago?”   
  
Napoleon winces. He knows that Illya has had a crush on Gaby ever since their first mission, and he does not look forward to telling her that he accidentally triggered one of Illya’s violent outbursts, much less describing in detail what took place between Illya and himself in that room.   
  
“What did Waverly tell you?”  
  
“Only that you and Illya have to,” she waves her hand in the air, “get intimate with each other, due to CIA requirements. And that Illya thrashed the room right on the first session.”  
  
“Right.” He still feels uneasy describing what happened, which is strange because normally he would have no problem delivering the most bawdy pickup lines to women he barely met. Gaby was different, she was his partner, not to mention highly protective of Illya.  
  
“Er, well... I kissed Illya? And then.. Um..”  
  
“And then what?” Gaby snaps, growing impatient. ”You sucked him? You fucked him? Come on Napoleon, I don’t have all day to listen to you beat around the bush. I’ve heard worse things before. Just say it.”   
  
Napoleon pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yes, Gaby. I sucked him. Then he came in my mouth. Later when I kissed him again, he said that he could taste himself, and then he kind of freaked out because of that.”  
  
“Oh.” Gaby pursed her lips, trying to figure out the situation. “How is he now? Waverly said that he was in the infirmary for a while, but he went to his own room to rest.”   
  
“Physically, he is fine. Mentally, I’m not sure.” He thinks back to the look on Illya’s face before he left, and wonders if he should also tell Gaby about his sexual inclinations. Oh well, they’re all spies, and the word is going to get around sooner or later. He might as well be the one to tell it to her.  
  
“Illya thinks that the CIA are trying to turn him into a homosexual.”   
  
Gaby snorts, clearly seeing the ridiculousness in Illya’s thinking.  
  
“I tried to tell him that they’re not doing that, and even so, it’s not possible to do so. And I ended up telling him that I was attracted to both men and women. He didn’t react well.”  
  
“Oh, Napoleon.”  
  
“I think he’s going to be a little more wary of me from now on.”   
  
“He just needs time to adjust.” She puts her hand on his and squeezes reassuringly.  
  
“Gaby? I also need to say this. I’m sorry. For what I’m going to have to do to Illya.”  
  
“What do you mean? Are you going to hurt him?” Gaby’s eyes widen in worry.  
  
“No. They’re going to force us to have sex. And I know how much the both of you desire each other. Gaby I promise that I’m not going to hurt Illya, and I’m not going take him away from you.”   
  
Gaby squeezes his hand again and smiles warmly.  
  
“I’m glad I have you as a partner, Napoleon.” 

* * *

Later that day, Waverly calls for a meeting with all three of his top agents. Gaby and Napoleon arrive first. Illya tenses up when he sees them, but quickly schools his features into a neutral expression.   
  
“Right then. Napoleon, Illya. I hope you don’t mind that I brought Gaby up to speed with regards to what happened earlier today.”   
  
Napoleon nods, while Illya grits his teeth and looks down at his hands.  
  
“Kuryakin. You gave us quite a scare with what you did, but I suppose in that moment you couldn’t help it. Please don’t blame yourself, it was quite sudden and I think that most men in your situation would also have been equally, if not more distraught than you.”  
  
Illya lifts his head to meet Waverly’s gaze, and sensing that his superior was not angry at him, he relaxes.   
  
“That brings us to why I’ve gathered you here. I managed to talk to the men from the CIA and find out their exact requirements in these so-called ‘training’ sessions.”  
  
“What do they want from us?” Illya asks warily.  
  
“They want to see you - both of you - penetrate each other, as well as fellate each other. From my understanding of the way they phrased it, you could do as many or as little of these acts as you want in any given session, but the exercise will only be over after you complete all of their requirements. And personally, and don’t take this as additional pressure, I would prefer it if you two would complete this exercise sooner rather than later. Get the CIA out of the picture and all that.”  
  
“I suppose Illya and I will have to come up with a strategy to get this over with quickly then,” Napoleon nods and glances at Illya, who still has his hands clenched.  
  
“And I would like to speak to Gaby. In private,” says Illya pointedly.  
  
“Right then. In that case, I suppose we can call this meeting to a close. Thanks for coming.” Waverly gets up and opens the door and lets them out of his office, before sitting back on his chair and heaving a sigh.  
  
This is turning out to be quite a prickly situation. If Kuryakin’s attachment for Gaby wasn’t tricky enough to sort out, this bloody exercise has caused even more complications. Waverly just hopes that his team would be able to pull through after this nonsense is over.  
  


* * *

 


	5. Last Minute Rehearsal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Illya and Napoleon get some practice, away from prying CIA eyes.  
> EDITED: 15 Nov (a bit more smut at the end)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the smut? :D

There is a knock on Napoleon’s door just as he is about to turn in for the night. Surprised that there would still be people looking for him at this time, he puts on a bathrobe and cautiously opens the door.  
  
He finds Illya standing outside his room, his hair damp and sticking out slightly.  
  
“So I take it that you had your talk with Gaby?”  
  
“Yes, and it was a long one. She said that she came by your room earlier.”  
  
“She did. And what brings you here?”  
  
Illya straightens himself and looks Napoleon squarely in the eye. “For practice.”  
  
“Haven’t you had enough of that for the day?”  
  
“We need to get this over with. Waverly said so.”  
  
“Illya, you really shouldn’t be forcing yourself like this.”  
  
Illya’s eyebrow twitches and his hand clenches. “It is job. It is nothing, for the best of the KGB,” he insists, and it still sounds as if he’s trying to convince himself to get on with it.  
  
“Fine.” Napoleon unbolts the door and lets Illya in.  
  
“I need to ask you some questions first. I don’t want you freaking out again.”  
  
“Alright.” Illya heads straight to the mini bar, and pours a shot of vodka for Napoleon and himself. The times where Illya drinks are few and far between, and Napoleon can tell that he is using the alcohol to loosen himself up. He watches Illya sit down on the couch and knock back the shot, and he goes to sit opposite him, taking his drink as well.  
  
“Illya, how did you feel, when we kissed?”  
  
“It was nice,” Illya admits, taking a drink and pouring himself another shot. “You kiss better than a lot of women I know.”  
  
“What about when I sucked your cock?”  
  
Illya swallows his second shot of the night. "It was... amazing. I thought I was going to come within seconds."  
  
"Alright, but you hate the taste of it. So I'll be sure to not kiss you after sucking you."  
  
Illya blinks at him, and finally nods. He looks back down at the shot glass in his hand.  
  
“So where is this going, tonight? Am I going to need one more shot of whiskey, or five?”  
  
“Actually I’m going to need you to stop drinking and pay attention for a while. We need to strategize.”  
  
Another nod, and Illya puts down his empty shot glass.  
  
“I’m actually not too worried about the cock sucking. That can be handled quite easily. I’m concerned about your potential reaction to being penetrated.”  
  
Illya huffs exasperatedly, and leans back in his chair.  
  
"So the CIA wants to watch us fuck... but that's... that's impossible. You saw how big my cock was, and yours isn't small either!"  
  
"It is possible, and if you prepare yourself properly, it wouldn't hurt as much."  
  
"Have you... how do you know?" Illya’s eyes widened in shock.  
  
"I've tried. Not with people as big as you, but I think it should be possible." Napoleon reaches out for his shot glass.  
  
"You're crazy."  
  
"Indeed I am," he says, and tips his head back and knocks back a shot.  
  
“You haven’t answered my question, Cowboy. What are we doing tonight?” The look Illya shoots him is still surprisingly sober given the amount of shots that he had, but maybe that was to be expected of a Russian.  
  
“I was thinking, of preparing you. Loosening you up, so that it hurts less when we have to actually fuck.”  
  
“Hmm. And what about you?”  
  
“I’ll be doing the same.”  
  
“Fine.” Illya stands up, and pours his last shot and downs it, and then starts stripping off his clothes.  
  
Napoleon puts his bathrobe on the back of a chair and pulls out the lube from his nightstand. He climbs into his bed and waits for Illya.  
  
Finally, Illya strides over to the bed, and Napoleon has to suppress a shiver of arousal.  
After Illya gets into the bed, Napoleon puts a hand on his shoulder.  
“Can I kiss you?”  
  
“Yes,” Illya murmurs and he lets Napoleon lean in for a kiss. This time, they both know what to expect. Illya is a lot more responsive, and he kisses back and pulls Napoleon in closer.  
  
When they break apart, Napoleon sits up and takes the lube from the stand, coating two of his fingers in it. Illya looks at him warily, but Napoleon simply reaches back and slides a finger inside of himself.  
  
“Look, it’s not going to hurt.” Napoleon says. He adds another finger and pushes all the way in. It’s been awhile since he’d last done this to himself, and when he curls his fingers the sensation still catches him by surprise. He groans softly, and slowly thrusts in fingers in and out a little more, before pulling them out completely and resting his head on the pillow.  
  
When he looks up he sees Illya watching him, more curious and less worried than before.  
  
“I’ll go clean my hands, and then I’ll do the same for you,” Napoleon says, pushing off and heading towards the bathroom. He returns shortly, wiping his hands dry with a hand towel.  
  
"I'm going to put a finger inside you first. I promise it won't hurt."  
  
“Alright. Do you want me on my back or on my front?”  
  
“Hands and knees would be best.”  
  
As Illya shifts, Napoleon's slicks his finger and presses it lightly against Illya's hole. Illya tenses, his nerves getting the better of him. Napoleon decides not to force it, but instead strokes Illya's back with his other hand, calming him and getting him to relax.  
  
Once he does, Napoleon's finger slides in easily.  
  
Illya looks at Napoleon with wide eyes as Napoleon slides his finger in and out of Illya's hole steadily. His confused gaze shows that he's adjusting, and deciding whether he likes this new sensation. When he finally gets used to it, he visibly relaxes, letting Napoleon work his finger even deeper into him.  
  
As Napoleon strokes his finger inside of Illya, he crooks his fingers, searching and pressing lightly to gauge his reaction. When he finds Illya’s prostate and gives it a gentle stroke, Illya gasps and bucks his hips forward on instinct.  
  
"What was that?!"  
  
Napoleon resists the urge to roll his eyes. “It’s your prostate. Every man has one.”  
  
With his thumb, he gently presses the spot behind Illya’s balls and watches him squirm.  
  
“How does it feel?”  
  
“Good? Weird, but good.”  
  
“Alright, turn around then.” Napoleon pulls his fingers out entirely and guides Illya to lie on his back. “Hmm... can I kiss you again?”  
  
“Yes.” Illya moves to sit up, but Napoleon stops him, pressing him down gently with his other hand.  
“Shh... Just relax and let me take care of you.”  
  
Napoleon kisses his partner’s neck, licking and biting gently, before moving up to peck Illya on the lips. This time, Illya opens his mouth eagerly, and easily deepens the kiss.  
  
When they part for air, Napoleon glances down, and sees Illya already hard and leaking.  
  
“Seems like you’re enjoying yourself.” Napoleon says with a self-satisfied grin.  
  
“Does this mean I’m gay? I don’t want to become gay.” Illya’s eyes flutter as he slurs the last part of the question.  
  
So Illya’s still worrying about this issue again. Napoleon takes it upon himself to try to explain it to him. “You know what I said about liking both women and men? It’s possible, you know. Just because you enjoy this, it doesn’t mean that you’re not allowed to like women any more.”  
  
Illya sighs in resignation. “Alright.”  
  
“Now, where were we? Oh right,” Napoleon runs his thumb teasingly over Illya’s balls, watching him shiver and squirm again. Illya’s cock twitches and spurts out a small jet of precum, and Napoleon smirks.  
  
He leans down and takes Illya in his mouth again, and Illya lets out hoarse shout.  
  
This time, with no one watching them, Napoleon allows himself to relish every reaction from Illya. He notices how Illya is especially sensitive at the frenulum and the ridge of his cock head, from the way he almost screams when Napoleon laps at it. He also notices that Illya enjoys being jacked off by him, as his features relax and his lips curve into a happy little smile.  
  
Napoleon studiously commits every single bit of that to memory, as once this is over, he may never experience it again.  
“I’m close,” Illya croaks, and Napoleon takes it as his cue to give him a particularly hard suck, and sure enough Illya moans brokenly as his cock jerks and spills into Napoleon’s mouth.  
  
Napoleon swallows, licks his lips and shivers. “You have no idea how much I wanted to do that.”  
  
Illya simply tips his head back and runs his fingers through Napoleon’s sweat damp hair.

“I swear, Cowboy, you’ll be the death of me.”


	6. Grin and Bear It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their second session goes a lot better than the first. It's still not easy but it's a lot better.

It turns out that the CIA “training” was placed at top priority, as the CIA would not allow Napoleon to continue on another mission before he and his partner had successfully completed the training. Thus, right after breakfast the next day, Napoleon and Illya are ushered right into the same room from the day before.   
  
The room was restored to nearly to its original condition. The only exception, Napoleon noted, was the mattress, which was now thicker, sturdier and more comfortable. If it was Waverly’s way of making it easier for them, Napoleon was grateful for that.  
  
This time, when they were asked to strip, Illya did so without protest. That was probably a good sign. Once they were both naked, Illya looks at him, waiting for him to make a move.  
  
“Illya. I need you to trust me. You need to suck my cock.” And get it over with, that much was left unsaid, as they both kept on saying too many times already.  
  
Illya frowned at him, but leaned over and palmed Napoleon’s cock in his hand, stroking it.  
  
To his confusion, Napoleon’s eyes widened and he shook his head, mouthing a silent ‘no’  
at him. Out loud he says “just suck it”, almost urgent in a way that has nothing to do with arousal.  
  
Now more puzzled than apprehensive, Illya leans forward and takes Napoleon’s cock in his mouth. To his surprise it didn’t taste any different from freshly cleaned skin, and he realizes that Napoleon probably went to wash himself just a few minutes before in preparation for this moment. He laps at it for a while, and Napoleon starts to grow hard until Napoleon tugs at his hair, urging him away and pulling him up to kiss him.  
  
When they part, Napoleon whispers, barely loud enough for Illya to hear “I didn’t want you to taste my precome. And now you don’t have to.” Illya squeezes his hand, grateful for his partner’s thoughtfulness.  
  
“Also, I was thinking of riding you today. Since you’re so fond of calling me ‘Cowboy’.”  
  
Illya snorts at that, "If you're cowboy, then I am horse. How is that better?"  
  
Napoleon resists the urge to laugh, even though Illya is like a horse in certain ways. Illya huffs and purses his lips, seemingly unamused, but Napoleon saw illya's lips twitch in hidden mirth.  
  
“We’re going to need some lubrication.” Napoleon calls out to the men behind the glass panel.  
  
“In the box next to the door.”   
  
Napoleon goes over to retrieve the lube, and when he returns he pours some over his hands. He gestures for Illya to move closer to him and pours some lube into his hands as well.  
Just as both of them start to stroke their cocks, the tinny voice from the speaker blares again.  
  
“We didn’t tell you to have a circle jerk. Stop wasting our time.”   
  
Illya shoots a sharp glare at the two way glass.  
  
“Ignore them,” says Napoleon, “eyes on me.”  
  
Just like the night before, Illya watches Napoleon slide his fingers inside himself, and the way he inhales sharply and his mouth goes slack with pleasure. While watching him, he pumps his own cock, and it does not take long before he is hard as nails and absolutely turned on.  
  
Napoleon slides his fingers out of his hole with a wet pop, and motions for Illya to lie on the mattress. As he does, Napoleon straddles him and lines his cock up with his hole, and slowly sinks down on him.  
  
"охуеть!" Illya inhales sharply. "Cowboy - how - You're so tight around my cock."  
He moans and digs his heels into the mattress, driving his cock deeper into Napoleon's ass.   
  
Napoleon winces slightly, and gingerly balances himself on Illya's lap again. “Peril, I’d rather you not do that. At least give me a while to get used to this.”   
  
Illya averts his gaze. “Sorry, Cowboy.”  
  
“It’s alright.” Napoleon presses a kiss to Illya’s lips, and he leans back. He breathes deeply for a few counts, and when he’s ready, he pushes himself up a bit, letting Illya’s cock slide out of him, before pushing back down again.   
  
Illya has an amazing cock. It’s thick and hard, and Napoleon can easily angle his hips so that Illya’s cock rubs against his prostate with every thrust. It’s been a while since he last experienced such a lovely cock, and he doesn’t bother hiding his enjoyment of it at all. He moans loudly and unabashedly as his own cock slaps against Illya’s belly with every bounce, also hard and leaking precome, and he reaches down to tug at his own cock without even breaking the rhythm of his thrusts.  
  
Meanwhile, Illya’s hands first find his hips, then he swats Napoleon’s hand away and takes his cock in hand. The stimulation from both Illya’s cock and his rough calloused hands is almost too much, and Napoleon wants to scream.  
  
Instead, in a split second of sudden clarity, he realizes that they’re just so close to getting the CIA out of their hair - forever. And he knows what he has to do in order to make that happen.  
  
He reaches down and gives a rough squeeze to the base of his own cock - grunting and wincing at the slight pain in his groin, and he eases himself off Illya’s cock.   
  
“What - what are you doing?!” Illya hisses at him, confused.   
  
“I just realized - if I penetrate you, we can just wrap this up and we’ll never have to do this again.” Napoleon says, carefully searching Illya’s face for his reaction.   
  
He watches Illya take in a long breath, and once again the steely look of determination is back in his eyes, the look that says that he will endure whatever he has to in order to get the job done.  
  
“Alright. Just do it.”  
  
“Are you sure?”   
  
Illya throws his head back in frustration. “Yes Cowboy, I’m sure. Now hurry up and get on with it or I swear I’ll flip you over and do it myself!”  
  
Napoleon grabs the jar of lube again and slicks up his fingers. He pushes two of his digits into Illya’s hole, taking care to stretch him so it’ll hurt less. His body opens up easier than the night before, and soon he removes his fingers and lines his cock up with the rim of Illya’s ass.   
  
“Tell me if this hurts. I don’t want to hurt you.” Napoleon says, and he receives only a curt nod in return.   
But instead of pushing all the way into Illya, Napoleon only slides the tip of his cock into his ass, before immediately pulling it out again and resuming his previous position of straddling Illya’s legs.  
  
By now Illya just looks even more bewildered than before.   
“What happened? I thought you were going to fuck me?”  
  
“Technically, I did. If our CIA friends are going to split hairs about this issue they can take it up with Waverly, but I think we’ve done everything we need to do. Well, except for one last thing.”  
  
With that he slides himself back on Illya again.  
  
“Oh.” In a way, it’s almost comical how Illya’s grim look of determination only moments before can melt away so easily. Napoleon can’t help himself- he reaches out and cradles Illya’s cheek in his hand.   
  
Then their gazes meet, and Napoleon sees the relief in Illya’s eyes and lets out a breath that he didn’t know he was even holding.  
  
“Right, “ He says with a grin, “where were we?”  
  
Illya visibly relaxes, and Napoleon leans in to kiss him. And from then it’s easy. They rock together like it’s second nature and it barely takes a few strokes before Napoleon comes hard, his cock spurting streaks of come on Illya’s belly. He clenches down hard on Illya, who groans and comes as well.  
  
It takes a while for Napoleon to come down from the high of his orgasm, and he gives Illya a grin, who returns it with one of his own.   
  



	7. What Now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the exercise is over, Illya and Napoleon have to figure out what this all means.

As soon as they hear the door opening, Napoleon quickly breaks his gaze off from Illya.  
  
“We better- I’d better go.” Napoleon says. He gingerly pulls himself off Illya and starts to put on his suit from where it lay crumpled on the floor.   
  
Illya watches, stunned. What was going on? Why was Napoleon acting so strangely, being so tender in one moment and so emotionally distant in the next?  
  
When he sees that it was not just the CIA agents, but Waverly entering the room as well, Illya scrambles to get up and retrieve his clothes. He suddenly feels very naked and vulnerable, and the reminder of the people watching what he just did with his partner set his cheeks aflame.  
  
Waverly, to his credit, waits for them to finish putting on their clothes before he speaks.   
  
“Napoleon and Illya. You’ve done a good job, and completed the training exercise. You’re free to go for now, but I will need the both of you to be back in my office at 1300 hours for a short debriefing.”  
  
Napoleon lets out a snort, clearly unable to hide his amusement.  
  
“I’m sorry. That was a rather poor choice of words on my part.” Waverly pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “I’ll see the both of you in my office, where I’ll give you the details of your next assignment. You’re free to leave now.”  
  
Waverly then ushers the two CIA men out the door and closes it behind him as he leaves.  
  
Napoleon was the one to speak up first.  
  
“Are you alright, Peril?”  
  
“I’m fine. Thanks.” Illya says, awkwardly. Where does he even start? How can he thank his partner for what he did?  
  
He watches Napoleon approach him, and lace his hands with his own.  
  
“Is this okay?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Can I hug you?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Napoleon wraps him in a tight hug, and as he holds Illya tight, Illya forces himself to breathe. Even, measured breaths, until his heart stops racing and he can think more clearly about what they just went through together.  
  


* * *

  
  
That night, Illya knocks on Napoleon’s door.   
  
“Come in.” Napoleon opens the door, letting Illya in.  
  
“Can I sleep here tonight?” Illya says, his voice pitched low enough that Napoleon has to strain his ears to hear him. He wonders if that was his partner’s way of asking for sex, if he was still uncomfortable with asking for it outright.  
  
“Yes, and you can sleep on my bed if you want.”  
  
Illya doesn’t say anything, but he shuffles over to the bed and pulls off his turtleneck and pants before climbing into the bed in just his underwear.  
  
When Napoleon lies back down on the bed, Illya inches closer and puts his arms around Napoleon.  
  
“Is this okay?” Illya whispers.  
  
“Yes.” Napoleon turns himself around to face Illya. He runs his hands down Illya’s arms and his side, soothing him. He holds his partner’s hand, where it still trembles faintly, and he rubs his chest, where his heart is still beating wildly.  
  
“It’s okay, Illya.” The use of his name makes Illya’s eyes widen in shock, but Napoleon continues his task of calming Illya down.   
  
“Go to sleep. We can talk about this tomorrow.”  
  
Napoleon watches Illya as his eyes flutter shut. Illya’s arms wrap around Napoleon in a loose hug, his hands stop their trembling and his heart rate starts to slow back down.  
  
Satisfied, Napoleon rests his head against his partner’s chest, and lets himself be lulled into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm planning a (smutty) epilogue, but it's more of an alternate ending to this fic. I've purposely left this one as open ended.


End file.
